


Play Dates

by TuppingLiberty



Series: With Love in Mind [10]
Category: Original Work, With Love in Mind
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Asexuality, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, COVID-19 talk, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Come Eating, Come Marking, Comeplay, Consensual Somnophilia, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Edging, Feminization, Fisting, Fisting Dildo, Flogging, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Fucking Machines, Gags, Hand Jobs, Impact Play, Kink Scene, Kinktober, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Phone Sex, Play Room, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Seattle, St. Andrew's Cross, Subspace, Sugar-Daddy esque, Toys, Vibrators, graysexual character, not forced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: István and Graeme cook up a scheme to get together and play more often.Kinktober: Day 7-?? (I'm not sure how many chapters I'll end up doing in particular fic, but multiple. It's just all scenes with István, Graeme, Clark and Alan.





	1. Setup

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what all kinks will fall into this fic, but now's the time to request something if there's anything you think would be great for István, Graeme, Alan, and Clark!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this chapter, just Graeme and István hatching their plan.

“Baby!” 

Graeme looks up from his to-go mug of tea, flushing what Alan always assures him is a pretty pink. The nickname may be embarrassing considering that it’s short for Baby Boy, what Alan - and others - call him when he’s subbing, but in the context of the coffee shop, it probably doesn’t sound out of the ordinary to anyone else. 

Well, no more out of the ordinary than István is himself. He’s wearing purple slacks that hug the curves of his ass and his calves, short chunky black heels, and a loose purple button up, cinched at the waist with a black belt. He is bright and effervescent and perfectly István Farkas. He bounces - yes, legit bounces - over to Graeme, briefly checking to make sure Graeme’s to-go mug is closed before he sweeps Graeme up in a warm hug. 

“Isti,” Graeme murmurs back, his own voice warm and fond. “I’m so glad you had time today.” He cheats out his cheek for István’s kiss, and squeezes the man back as hard as he can. 

István’s hug had drawn him up off the floor, but he sets Graeme down again quickly, telling Graeme to find them a good, private spot to catch up as he hurries off to the drink line. 

Smiling to himself, Graeme stakes out a corner love seat and pulls out his knitting while he waits, letting his mind wander as he works. After graduation, he’d thrown himself into work with Reene, enough that she’d forced his day off today. Unfortunately, the day off had lined up with Alan’s meeting about government contracts, so he’d called up someone else he hadn’t been able to see in awhile. 

Isti sits down with his own frothing cup of cappuccino and starts sprinkling raw sugar on the foam methodically. “Okay, tell me everything. How are you? How is work? How was the trip to Oregon? _ Everything.” _

Graeme reaches over for his cup, takes a sip of his cinnamon tea, and smiles. 

That’s the awesome thing about good friends. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen them, it’s always easy to fall back into conversation with them. 

Of course, István likes to pepper his conversation with flirting, because he has a sadistic love of making Graeme blush, and Graeme knows he makes himself such an easy target. 

Listen, the ‘innocent’ aspect of the Baby Boy persona isn’t all made up, okay? 

They’d finished their drinks awhile ago, and István’s body is nestled against his, his hand tracing patterns onto Graeme’s thigh while Graeme knits. The small touch, and István’s warm eyes, are making Graeme glad that the sweater he’s knitting is covering his lap, because he’s afraid if he stood, he’d have an awkward time getting out of here without embarrassing himself and everyone else. He doesn’t tell Isti to stop, though, because exhibitionism will always be his major kink, and because Alan doesn’t mind when István plays with him. István’s the only person on the list, actually, of people allowed to play with Graeme when Alan’s not there - the list had been mutually agreed upon by Graeme and Alan, of course, and it’s mostly a show of his extreme trust in István - not even Clark, István’s partner and Dom, a man whom Graeme admires and loves dearly, is on the list. 

It’s nothing more than a teasing flirtation anyway, as neither of them can take the time to do a scene right now - István’s on his lunch break, and Graeme’s meeting some people at the yarn shop soon. Still, István’s fingers feel electric as they ghost over the back of his knee, making him shiver, which gets István smiling a toothy, self-satisfied grin. 

“I missed you,” István murmurs directly into Graeme’s ear, his breath playing over Graeme’s neck. “And Alan, too.”

Graeme stops knitting so he can take István’s hand and thread their fingers together. “I miss you, too. I don’t want Alan and I to become that couple that says ‘we should get together’ and then we never make plans, you know? Especially with you and Clark.” 

István nods, squeezing Graeme’s hand. “Okay, hear me out. This is going to sound very...non-organic, but it works, for me and my mom anyway. I realized I wasn’t calling her very often, because I felt like I didn’t have anything to say, but then when I did call her, we would talk for an hour. So I realized I just had to set up a certain time of the week with her, like an appointment. I know that sounds stupid, but-” 

“No, I kind of like that, actually. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in our own lives, I think.” Graeme leans over to kiss István’s red cheek. Most of the time it’s hard to remember exactly how insecure István has been made to feel, in the past, of his own intelligence and common sense. The string of bad people - both Doms and boyfriends - he’d had before Clark - well. What matters now is reassuring István when he feels this way. “What if we set up like a...monthly play date? Or date-then-play,” he suggests with a grin. 

István answers his smile. “I think that I like the way you think, _ csillagom.” _ He pulls back, whipping out his phone and tapping at rapid speed. “Ask your Daddy, too,” he urges, happy.


	2. Introduction to the basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their first playdate, István takes the lead, showing Graeme the basement play room he and Clark have worked hard on over the years.
> 
> Day 7: Handjobs

Clark feels a frisson of excitement as he unlocks the front door to their house, then steps in to hold the door open for István, who kisses his cheek with a twinkle in his eye, and Graeme, who’s being guided by Alan’s hand on the small of his back, a possessive little move that Clark understands completely. 

Clark shrugs out of his linen suit coat, then offers up his arm for everyone else’s summer coats as István takes Graeme’s hand with the promise of ‘giving him the tour.’ This leaves he and Alan in the entrance way, grinning together. 

“What types of food and drink does Graeme prefer for aftercare?” Clark asks, unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt and pushing them up over his forearms. 

“We like water, and chocolate if you have it.” 

“Do I have chocolate.” Clark snorts, nodding Alan to the direction of the kitchen. He resists the urge to slip an arm around the taller Dom and guide him the way Alan had guided Graeme before. Instead, he folds his arms at his chest after he opens a cupboard to show Alan their selection. 

Still, he can’t help but brush his knuckles against Alan’s arm when he’s done. And it's not like his and Alan's relationship is devoid of physical contact. “Can I get sappy for a second?” 

Alan grins, but nods.

“I’m really glad you found Graeme.” Clark threads their fingers together, then brings Alan’s hand up for a kiss, more intimate than he normally is with his longtime friend, but it feels right. “You’ve been there for me, and for me and István, every step of the way. I’m glad you have someone who supports you right back, now.” 

“Oh, god, so am I.” He pulls Clark into a hug, as always, careful of Clark’s own body issues that make him sensitive to their size difference. He never hugs Clark like he’s trying to make Clark feel how much smaller he is - ‘course, everyone is small compared to Alan. “Thanks for being there for me during the Stetson times, though. And after.” 

“Always, buddy.” Clark leans back, gathering chocolate for István’s aftercare as well. His Isti loves dark chocolate over macadamia nuts, and he grabs a small bag of them. 

There’s the sound of feet on the stairs, and then István comes into the kitchen, pulling Graeme along by his hand. Beside Clark, Alan straightens, eyes immediately giving Graeme a check, and Clark finds himself doing the same. Graeme’s eyes are a little bright, his cheeks flushed, his lips plump. If Clark had to place money, he’d bet that István did a lot more upstairs than just showing Graeme his closet. 

Isti’s eyes are bright, too, his Dom side shining through in a way that’s always fascinating to Clark. István seems like the perfect glue for all of them; he still enjoys and acknowledges his submission to Clark, and through Clark to Alan, but he also Doms the hell out of Graeme, and Graeme loves every second of it. It’s endearing, warming Clark’s heart and making him pull Isti away to kiss him thoroughly.  


He leans back, his arms still around István’s waist. “Should we show them the basement, Isti?”

István practically bounces with excitement, which makes Clark belatedly notice that both he and Graeme lost their shoes at some point upstairs. Graeme’s toes, painted a deep purple, are poking out from under his dress pants, which is also fucking endearing. 

István leans down to kiss Clark’s cheek, then turns to Alan and Graeme, who are similarly wrapped up in each other. “Okay, so, I can’t wait for you guys to see this.” He leads the rest of them down the basement stairs, narrating along the way. “Clark and I have been working on this since we purchased this place, but it’s really Clark’s baby. I think he takes it almost as seriously as he does his restaurants.” 

As they descend the steps, the mild Seattle summer heat gives way to that underground coolness - worth it for the summers, a bear to heat when they want to play in winters, or at least it had been, before Clark had installed the heated floors. 

The play room is the whole reason they decided to host the play dates here; no matter how nice Alan’s apartment is, this basement has way more space, including a huge king sized bed tucked behind a screen. It’s a quiet place for aftercare, yeah, but also a very comfortable place to have a foursome. 

When they get down the stairs, Clark bounces a little on the flooring. “Feel the slight spring? A bit like a dance studio. Feels much better on the knees than concrete, but we also have padded rugs for extended kneeling, if you like, Graeme.” 

Graeme’s blush is so pretty, and it’s obvious that if he hadn’t already been slipping toward his Baby Boy headspace from whatever he and István did upstairs, walking down to the basement had worked to effectively put him there now. He nods in acknowledgement of Clark’s words, then turns to bury his face in Alan’s shirt, obviously ‘embarrassed.’ 

Clark knows that Graeme and Alan rarely go as hard as he and István do. Graeme gets off the most by being taken care of, while István likes to be  _ used, _ thoroughly, roughly, when he’s subbing. While Clark loves Graeme and finds him sweet, he’s not really Clark’s type. 

What  _ is _ Clark’s type is watching István dom him, though, so he gives Isti a last squeeze and pushes him toward Graeme with the suggestion, “You should show him around, Isti. Finish your tour. See if there’s anything new we can introduce him to.” 

István gives him a brilliant smile and one last kiss. “Whatever you say, sir.” 

Graeme peeks up at István when he crosses the room to them. Smiling at Alan, István leans in, his lips caressing Graeme’s ear. “Ask your daddy if you can come play with me, Baby Boy.” 

God, István adores the way Graeme’s eyes go all glassy and compliant, the way his breath quickens and his pulse beats and his cock makes an obvious tent in his dress pants. Loves the feeling of power he gets when he has to physically tilt Graeme’s head back to face Alan’s because Graeme’s already so lost in submission, though not subspace. “Ask, baby.”

Graeme’s breath catches. “Can I go play with Isti, Daddy?” he manages, his fingers clutching at Alan’s shirt. 

Alan’s hand sweeps down Graeme’s back, cupping his ass and squeezing enough to make Graeme moan a little. They run through their safewords routine, with the addendum of a reiteration of the ground rules the two couples share. 

“What’s your rating today, Alan?” István asks, holding Graeme around the waist and slowly rocking him away from his Daddy’s arms, a symbolic transfer of power. 

“PG for now, we’ll see how it goes.” Alan tips Graeme’s face up for one long, lingering kiss. “Love you, Baby Boy. Be good for Daddy.” 

Graeme whimpers, even as he melts back into István’s arms. 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay,” István murmurs into Graeme’s ear. 

There’d been something about Graeme, and his Baby Boy headspace, that had called right to István’s core the moment he met him, when Graeme had colored out during a simulated breath play scene István had been doing with Clark. He totally gets Alan’s love for the young man; it’s impossible not to want to be soft and comforting with him. 

Playing with Graeme feeds something in István he honestly hadn’t even known he’d wanted. He’d been - still is - very happy with Clark, both in and out of play - he’s never found someone who makes him feel so delightfully raw, used, and cherished at the same time like Clark does. But playing with Graeme while Clark and Alan watch tends to take things to a different level for István. 

He cradles Graeme around the waist, guiding him away from the faux-leather (and therefore easily cleaned) loveseat Alan and Clark are watching them from. He takes Graeme’s hand, running his fingers over the smooth, well-oiled wood of the cross bolted to the wall. “Do you know what this is?” 

Graeme shakes his head. “I’ve seen them at the yoga studio, though. Saw Barbie on one.” 

István turns Graeme, pressing him back against the wood. “Mmm, yes, she does love this kind of restraint. It’s a St. Andrew’s cross.” István takes one of Graeme’s arms, guides it up the side of the X, pins his wrist there. Graeme takes a quick breath in, going limp against the cross. 

“What do you think? Baby Boy, all naked and tied up here for his Doms to admire?” He lets his hand drift over Graeme’s chest, finding one of Graeme’s piercings and tugging lightly on it through his dress shirt. “To torture…” 

Graeme groans softly, the sound barely audible yet echoing in the basement. “Sir-”

István releases his wrist, linking their fingers and bringing him to the toy drawers next. “We’ve got quite a collection. Whatever you could want.” He pulls open a drawer, pushing Graeme’s hand inside so he can feel all of the different sizes of plugs, all cleaned meticulously. Graeme gasps, his fingers wrapping around one - and not able to make it all the way around. 

“Have you had this inside you, sir?” Graeme holds the silicon toy up, the size and shape of a man’s fist. 

“Mmhmm. That, and the real thing, when my sir is amenable.” István kisses down the side of Graeme’s throat, making an approving noise when Graeme tilts his head for easier access. “Is that something you’d want to work up to?” 

Graeme nods enthusiastically, looking over their shoulders to his daddy, who winks and nods, too, taking out his phone and noting the preference down like he always does. 

“Now I  _ know _ you’ve had fun with these.” István opens the next drawer to reveal their vibrator collection. He picks a small palm-sized wand up, clicking the button on the bottom and bringing it to Graeme’s chest. He takes his time working the vibe in circles just around the outside of Graeme’s nipple, then finally lets it land directly there, making Graeme thrust his chest out with a groan.

“God, I love how sensitive you are. You’re going to love this next drawer.” He shuts the vibe down and puts it away, pulling open the drawer full of nipple clamps and chains. “Has your daddy clamped you before?”

Graeme shakes his head. “No, it’s on our list though.” 

“Trust me, you’re going to love it. Tie you to that cross, clamp these on you, and watch you  _ fly.” _

The strength seems to go from Graeme’s knees just a little, and István pulls him against his body to steady him, feeling powerful in his Dom role. They go through the ropes and ties, the chastity devices. Graeme’s flushed, his heart beating wildly under István’s lips when István sucks a mark on his throat. 

“You look a little hot, Baby Boy. Can I help you out of this?” He carefully works down the buttons on Graeme’s shirt, handing it to Clark, who folds it nicely because improper care for his clothes is one of the things that can take Graeme right out of subspace. István pulls Graeme’s undershirt up and over his head, too, revealing Graeme’s pale body, slight but strong, his arms defined from the work he’s been doing in the kitchen. “That’s better, but not quite there yet. You look a little uncomfortable in those pants, too. So tight in the wrong places.” 

István’s not subtle at all as he smooths his fingers over Graeme’s hard, leaking cock and squeezes until Graeme groans. Here, again, he carefully takes Graeme’s pants off and hands them to Clark, holding Graeme steady as he steps out of them. Graeme’s left in his black boxer briefs, in a room with three fully dressed Doms, and the effect on Graeme’s headspace is palpable. He squirms, a flush high and deep on his cheeks, and István’s own cock twitches at the sight. 

“I’ll keep you warm, baby,” he murmurs, moving them along. He introduces Graeme to the spanking bench and wall of tools Clark has accumulated to spank István with, carefully noting which tools Graeme’s eyes linger on for future reference. 

“And this, Baby Boy, this has been a long time in the making, and a lot of dollars, but my sir wanted me to have it.” István reaches up to pull a sheet off of a covered contraption. He knows what it is, of course, but he delights in Graeme’s confusion. 

“Let me help you figure it out.” He unlatches the hook holding the wood to the wall, swinging the contraption down to the floor like a Murphy bed. He manipulates Graeme until he’s sitting on the padded seat, then takes his leg and puts one foot in the waiting stirrup. “One here, and one there,” he says softly, “And you’re all spread open for me.” István’s fingers run over Graeme’s cock, trapped by his boxers, then press at his hole. He can feel it quiver beneath him. “And then this…”

He moves back, attaching a dildo to a mechanical arm between Graeme’s legs. “Then this fucks you, however fast I want it to.” He brings the arm up so the dildo’s head is pressing at Graeme’s covered hole. “Slow, fast, fucking your brains out.”

Graeme’s panting, his fingers clutching at his upheld legs. He leans his head back, whimpering. After a moment, he seems to collect himself, but when he looks at István, his eyes are glassy. 

“Color, baby?” István asks quietly. 

“Green, I just- I just want-” 

István rubs over Graeme’s cock. “What do you want, Baby, tell me what you want.” 

“Everything!” Graeme chokes out, trying to hump his hips up against István’s hand but finding no leverage with his legs dangling in the stirrups. “I want everything!” 

István tsks. “Greedy boy. Naughty naughty.” He reaches into Graeme’s boxers, stroking his cock in earnest now. “I don’t know. Daddy? Sir? Has he been a good enough Baby Boy to come?” 

Both István and Graeme look over to the love seat, where Clark’s fly is unzipped and his own underwear shoved down, and he’s slowly stroking over his cock. Alan’s isn’t out, but Clark’s got beard burn down the side of his neck, and Alan’s pupils are blown. Any jealousy István might have felt - and honestly, he doesn’t think he would have felt any anyway - is burned away in the lustful satisfaction that he and Graeme are making their Doms like this. 

“Please, please Daddy, please Sir-” Graeme sobs. István can feel everything in the young man’s body tensing against his orgasm. 

“Oh,  _ csillagom,  _ you are so fucking lovely when you beg.” 

“He’s been a good boy, he can come,” Alan calls out across the room. 

Still, Graeme looks back at István, waits for his okay. It’s such a heady fucking feeling, István trembles all over as he strips Graeme’s cock. “Come for me, Baby Boy. Come all over my hand.” 

With a cry, Graeme’s body stiffens, his cum spilling over István’s fist. István strokes him through it, their eyes locked, until Graeme starts shying away from the oversensitivity. His eyes look over István’s shoulder, and then Alan’s there, taking Graeme’s legs out of the stirrups and picking up him. István’s about to protest, he knows he should be the one responsible for Graeme’s aftercare, and once he stops shaking, he’s totally going to-

“You did so well, Isti. So good.” Clark’s face comes in front of his, his eyes warm and reassuring. “You made Graeme very happy. I’m so proud of you.” 

István lets himself fall into Clark’s embrace, tries to center himself on the feeling of Clark’s fingers gliding through his hair. “Sir…” 

“Do you want a reward, Isti? For doing such a good job?” 

István nods, going easily when Clark moves István’s head down to his cock. Eagerly, happy to fall into submission once again, where he feels more at an even keel, István mouths over Clark’s dick, then takes it fully inside. The taste of Clark’s precum is familiar and comforting, as is Clark’s hand pushing him down farther, though not pushing his breath limits in front of Graeme. 

“There you go, honey, just like that. God, your mouth is perfect.” 

István shudders, tumbling close to the edge of orgasm with the praise, with the endorphin rush of domming and the quick switch to subbing. He looks up at Clark’s face, his lovely, beautiful partner’s face. Clark bites his lip at something István does with his throat, and that’s what sends Isti over, watching Clark take his pleasure. He moans around Clark’s cock, bringing Clark to orgasm, too. He starts to come down István’s throat, and then István starts to pull off, takes the rest of it in his mouth like he likes to. 

It takes a few moments for Clark to be able to get István to his feet - István’s thinking about how nice it would be to just live on the floor - but eventually he does, walking István over to the bed where Alan and Graeme are already wrapped around each other. István and Clark settle in beside them, Clark’s fingers still stroking through his hair. István takes some of the sea salt caramel chocolate Alan’s feeding Graeme, and brings it to Graeme’s lips himself. Graeme’s still under, but he’s smiling up at István anyway. 

István lets himself fully relax into Clark’s body, listening to Clark’s stream of mumbled praise at how well he and Graeme did. 

‘Only 4 weeks ‘til next month,’ is István’s last thought before he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fans self*
> 
> And that's actually the first time I've done Istvan's POV! 
> 
> I live for Istvan teasing Graeme...


	3. Play Date 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Play Date 2, kinktober day 8: edging, orgasm denial, cock cage, anal sex, anal fingering, gags, bondage, feminization*
> 
> *In this fic, Istvan allows feminization; when they're in this headspace, they use they/them pronouns. This is not forced feminization - if that's your bag, this is not your fic; if you want to avoid it, you're safe here. No shame to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Clark does say "pussy" in reference to Istvan's ass.

Graeme whimpers against the cock gag, sliding his tongue around it like he’s giving his Daddy the best blow job of his life. His Daddy’s hand strokes over his hair, but he whimpered because Daddy’s other hand had slid down his back and then found his loose hole and shoved two fingers inside. He’s laying over his Daddy’s lap, naked, his arms bound behind him, his head resting on Daddy’s cock - hard but still tucked away under Daddy’s jeans. The position opens Graeme up, granting Daddy easy access to his ass. He’s completely helpless and vulnerable, relying on Daddy to position where he wants him. Wherever, however he wants him. 

It’s making Graeme pant against the gag, especially when Daddy’s fingers slide right over his prostate. He moans, trying to hump forward, get friction on his own aching cock, but Daddy’s hand withdraws, and then there’s a slap on his ass and a quiet reprimand. Graeme shakes his head, looking up at his Daddy, thinking, _ I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’m a good boy- _

And then Daddy smiles down at him, stroking through his hair once more. “Just have to wait a little longer, baby. You can wait a little longer, I know it. Such a good baby boy for your Daddy.” 

Graeme hums, looking back down, rubbing his cheek against Daddy’s cock as a sign of acknowledgement and affection. Daddy rewards him by stuffing him full again, his fingers immediately finding Graeme’s prostate and settling there. 

Sucking harder, feeling drool slide out of his mouth and onto Daddy’s pants, he looks over at Clark and István across the bed. He makes eye contact with István, also bound and gagged, also pushed down on hands and knees, but wearing a pretty, fluffy white dress that's shoved up over his hips. István’s being fucked by Clark, and as Graeme watches, they both close their eyes. The look of euphoria on István’s face makes the smudged eye makeup and lipstick all the more beautiful. 

“Good girl,” Clark murmurs, leaning over István and pulling on their pony tail to arch their back.

István shudders, their head thrown back. They’re absolutely gorgeous. Watching them, Graeme hardly registers Daddy’s fingers in his ass. 

A week ago, this wasn’t how he’d expected their second play date to end up, but he’s not complaining now. 

They’d established a routine, the last two months: a few nights before their play date, Graeme and Alan would host Clark and István at the apartment, Graeme would cook up a nice main dish while the other guys worked on sides, and they negotiated their upcoming scene. It had been a nice night, the two times they’d done it, and Graeme loved that part of the ritual. 

On this particular negotiation night, István’s painting Graeme’s nails as Alan and Clark run through various ideas. 

“Like I’ve said before, István doesn’t mind feminization, but he has to be in the right headspace for it.” 

István finishes a precise stroke, admiring his handiwork. “And I wouldn’t be able to dom Graeme in that headspace.” 

Graeme frowns, placing his other hand on the kitchen table for István to start on. “You’re not obligated to dom me, Isti.” 

“No, no, honey, of course not. I don’t feel that way at all. I just... you wouldn’t mind?” 

Graeme can’t help but lean forward. “Would I mind watching one of my dearest friends sub? Of course not. I’ve watched you at the yoga studio.” 

“But when we’ve played, I’ve always been domming you, so I thought maybe…” István shrugs, his eyes intent on Graeme’s fingernails, and Graeme leans over to kiss his cheek.

“I’d love to watch. Promise. What’s feminization?” 

István purses his lips, which only makes Graeme want to kiss him there, too. “I don’t necessarily… I’m not identifying as non-binary right now, mostly because I’m seeing where this journey takes me, and I know I’ll have Clark there no matter what.” 

Clark pulls up closer and kisses István’s other cheek. “Always, honey. No matter what.” 

“Feminization...can mean a couple of different things in the kink world. For me, it’s a headspace I fall into sometimes, where I just - I want to ramp up my ‘feminine’ side. I usually use they/them when I’m like that, and I want Clark to call me girl, that kind of thing. There are some other aspects - I’ll let you google something called forced feminization - but that’s not really what I’m talking about. Just...sometimes I wake up, and I know I’m they/them today, and part of that is tied with subspace and being a good girl for Clark and it’s....well, gender is complicated.” 

Graeme can’t move his fingers because they’re still drying, or he’d pull István into a hug. Instead, he nudges István’s knee with his own. “I’d like to see what that’s like for you, Isti.” He looks István in the eyes. _ “And, _ we didn’t start this with the intention of making everything about me. Alan and I want to play with you guys. I don’t have to be the center.” 

Alan nods, sliding his arm around Graeme’s shoulders. “I completely agree. We’d love to see you that way, István, if you want to show us. If not, we totally understand.” 

“I can’t exactly just _ schedule _ when I’m going to feel like doing it, but…” István lets a smile dawn on his face. “If it happens to work out for us, we’ll text you, okay?” 

Graeme grins, clapping his hands before remembering that they’re still wet and immediately bringing them down again. Alan snorts, and then the rest of the table laughs along with him. 

**Clark:** Hey guys- Isti was wondering if you wanted to play this afternoon. I can make us steaks; if you guys want to bring salad and a side, we should be set. 

**Clark: **Graeme, Isti said that if you want to come over early and help them get ready, they’d love to have you. 

The back-to-back texts arrive very neatly mid-Saturday morning, which means Alan and Graeme are basically wide open. It takes nothing for Graeme to walk Alan through making roast summer veggies, and then he whips up some chocolate chip cookies himself. 

Clark greets them, looking casual in bare feet, a baseball tee with blue sleeves, and board shorts. “Isti’s upstairs in our bedroom, I think you’re familiar with how to get there, Graeme? Alan, I could use your help in the kitchen setting up dinner, and you and I can go over the ground rules together.” 

Graeme leaves them to it, making his way upstairs. Yes, he knows exactly where the bedroom is, because last month István had pushed him against the wall and whispered a litany of all the dirty things he was going to do to him. 

The István he finds in the bedroom now though is very obviously different. They’re sitting at their vanity, working on eye makeup, and even the way István’s holding themself seems more submissive. They don’t bounce up to greet Graeme, instead looking over and smiling demurely. It’s almost strange, until they beckon him over, pulling up a second chair. 

“Hey Isti,” Graeme says softly, eyes gliding over the soft yellow silk slip István’s currently wearing. The spaghetti straps frame their broad shoulders, looking delicate against their masculine frame. 

“Hey, baby.” István leans over to kiss Graeme’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here to play with us.” 

“Me, too. What’re you working on?” 

Graeme watches as István continues applying makeup. If he had to guess, Graeme would say that the makeup looks more ‘natural’ than what István normally wears. They’re bringing in more pinks and reds, including a lovely deep red lipstick that makes Graeme think of a Hollywood starlet. They keep their hair back in the simple ponytail - Graeme figures it’s better for play that way. 

He likes seeing István like this, he realizes. As much as he loves being dommed by Isti, there’s something incredibly appealing about watching this soft being get themself ready for their own Dom. 

“Do you think they’re going to tie us up?” István asks, eyes twinkling, tone conspiratorial. 

Graeme likes this, too, this sub-to-sub level of conversation, just the two of them. 

“You sound like you have a little bit of inside knowledge, Isti.” Graeme grins when István throws back their head and laughs, their tattooed collar with Clark’s name exposed. 

“I maybe saw what Sir was setting up in the play room earlier.” István’s hand caresses over Graeme’s knee - he’s wearing shorts, too, a concession to the hot summer weather. “You don’t like to be all bound up and gagged, do you?”

Graeme sticks out his tongue at István, who laughs again and pushes up out of the chair to walk over to their closet. The yellow slip just skims the bottom of their ass, the cheeks peeking out as they walk. They keep up some idle, teasing chatter, the kind of dirty talk that has Graeme squirming in his seat and readjusting his pants. 

When István emerges, Graeme lets out a little involuntary gasp. The outfit is...well...definitely more ‘girly,’ whatever that means, than anything István has worn before. The yellow slip has been covered - just barely - by a short, white babydoll dress with eyelet ruffles. It’s floaty and fluffy and makes István look dainty and light. And yet Graeme knows, and István has to know, that István’s going to be wrecked by the end of the night. And István’s okay with that. 

Graeme wraps his arms around them, rubbing over their back and being careful not to smudge any of their makeup. “You look gorgeous.” 

Maybe it’s blush, maybe it’s the heat, maybe István is actually flushing, but whatever the reason, István’s cheeks redden. “Thank you, baby. You look delectable too, you know.” István grasps his hands. “Ready for dinner?” 

Graeme nods, letting István lead him away. 

Graeme’s never let himself get drunk, but he thinks it might feel like this does - the kind of happy floaty he feels after a good meal, great company, and his Daddy doting on him the entire time. With Clark caring for István, he gets Daddy all to himself, even while he gets to watch his best friends have fun with each other, too. It’s like the best of both worlds.

The best of the best. 

Graeme’s not quite sure how he gets to the basement, though he has a vague recollection of following Daddy down here. His eyes graze over the fucking machine, tucked under its blanket, and the St. Andrew’s cross. He shivers, desire making gooseflesh rise on his arms. 

“He’s already feeling it, huh?” Clark’s talking to Daddy about him, and Daddy smiles and nods, looking down at Graeme approvingly. It makes Graeme’s stomach flutter with happiness. 

“One of the many, many things I love about my Baby Boy. Sometimes he can go down at the slightest suggestion.” Daddy rubs his thumb over Graeme’s neck, making the chain of his collar move over his skin. Then he squeezes, and Graeme’s knees go weak. 

István’s looking a little far away, too, leaning on Clark, their arm around Clark’s waist. They still look pristine and perfect, but their eyes are hazy with want. Clark leans up, whispering in István’s ear, and they nod eagerly. 

“I just told István that if they’re a good girl, maybe Alan will let them open Baby Boy up for our games tonight. Isti got started a little earlier. Show them, sweetheart.” 

Primly, István turns, bracing their hands against the wall and thrusting their ass out. Clark slowly lifts up the fluffy white and pale yellow skirts of the dress and slip to reveal pale yellow lace panties. Underneath, it’s obvious István’s already been stretched, their rim clutching at a large black plug. Graeme can see from here, too, that their cock has been caged for probably as long as they’ve been plugged - since before he and Alan got here.

“I think you’re right. Time for Baby Boy to catch up. Shouldn’t be too hard with how I fucked him last night.” 

Graeme shudders, remembering last night, the sex they’d had in one of Graeme’s favorite places and positions - on the couch, Graeme riding Alan, drawing it out forever and ever, slowly working himself up and down. 

In no time, Graeme finds himself naked and on fours on the huge bed, his ass raised in the air. István, still in their pretty dress, still with their perfect makeup, kneels behind him, breath blowing against his hole. 

It’s never been like this; István’s always been at least a little in charge, but tonight, it’s as if they’re an extension of Clark’s goodwill, as if among the rules of hospitality like ‘always offer a drink’ and ‘make sure your guest is comfortable,’ ‘have your partner finger his best friend open’ is equally important.

Alan comes to sit on the bed in front of him, giving him some place to rest his head as István’s slick fingers tentatively start to open him up. “Such a good boy for us,” Daddy murmurs, stroking through Graeme’s hair. It makes Graeme whimper, rubbing his cheek against the soft material of Alan’s pants. “There you go, Baby Boy. Just take what Isti’s giving you.” 

Graeme knows that István knows how to efficiently stretch someone open. This is not that. This is slow. István is taking their time, torturing him as much as stretching. Graeme can hear Clark behind István, encouraging his girl in their work. It makes Graeme tremble just as much as any other scene with the four of them has before, even if the set up is slightly different. 

He jolts when he feels István’s hands press his cheeks apart and then the tentative, wet lick of István’s tongue at his hole. “Shhhhh,” Daddy soothes. “Let István do what they need to do.” 

He moans, still rubbing his head in his Daddy’s crotch. “You need something to suck on, baby?” 

Graeme nods enthusiastically. He hears Daddy confer with Clark, and even as István keeps rimming him, keeps thrusting their fingers inside, Graeme feels Clark’s weight leave the bed. He’s not gone long, and when he comes back, he kneels beside Alan at Graeme’s head. He lost the baseball tee somewhere, revealing the strong planes of his chest and the curly black hair that trails down below the popped button of his shorts. Graeme wants to follow, wonders if that’s what’s going on here, but then Clark hands Alan the gag, and Graeme understands. 

It’s a black silicone short cock - nothing that would trigger his breathplay issues - attached to heavy black leather straps, and Graeme’s heart flutters the moment he sees it. He opens his mouth automatically, making Clark smile and take over stroking his hair while Alan works with the straps. 

The dildo is thick, stretching Graeme’s lips just how he likes, especially when Daddy tightens the straps behind is head. His tongue lolls around the head, wetting it, getting it warm with body heat so it can feel more like a real cock. 

“Look at that, such a good little cocksucker,” Clark compliments, still running his fingers through Graeme’s hair. “You must treat your Daddy so right.” 

“Thanks,” Daddy murmurs, wrapping his arm around Clark’s neck to pull him over for a deep kiss. It makes Graeme’s eyes flutter shut with pleasure even as Daddy starts stroking his hair once again. 

He can feel his cock leak precum onto the sheets every time István’s tongue or fingers graze over his prostate, but Isti never sets a rhythm, just letting themself do whatever they want, whenever, and it’s driving Graeme crazy. His moans and whimpers are drowned against the cock, and Daddy pays them no mind, just continuing to pet his hair. Clark moves away again, back to István, doing something that makes István moan against his hole, vibrating their fingers inside and almost setting Graeme off. They pull back, expertly, like they know that Graeme is about to blow. 

“Mmm, yeah, sweetheart, I think you did a good job there. Look how open he is. Good job.” Clark’s words make Graeme shiver, and then there’s some readjustment and he’s sitting on Daddy’s lap, watching Clark and István make out. István’s lipstick is smeared from it - from the rimming, their eyes bright, their dress rumpled. 

“Clark’s going to tie Isti up. Do you want to be tied up too, Baby Boy?” Daddy whispers in his ear. “Match your friend?” 

Graeme nods eagerly, his head lolling back against Daddy’s neck, his mouth still stretching around the gag. 

Clark and Alan work efficiently - it’s just a simple chest harness that binds both Graeme’s and Isti’s hands at their backs. It’s enough that Graeme can’t keep his balance on his knees without help. He loves it, though, that feeling of utter helplessness in the hands of three people he trusts beyond the shadow of a doubt. When he whimpers, Daddy arranges him so his head is back in Daddy’s lap, this time to the side so he can watch Clark and István. 

István gets a ball gag, their pretty red lips stretched wide. Clark presses kisses to their neck, running his fingers over the tattooed collar etched into Isti’s skin. Graeme can see Isti shudder and shake, tilting their head in submission, to allow Clark access. 

“Think your pussy is still wet for me, sweetheart?” Clark whispers, and Isti nods frantically. 

He pushes them down to the mattress, lifting their skirts and running his finger around the rim being stretched open by the plug. It makes Graeme’s own rim clutch at nothing, and he moans, moving his ass higher in the air. Soothing him with whispers, his Daddy sinks two fingers into him to settle him. 

Clark keeps teasing Isti’s rim, making them groan around the ball gag. It’s beautiful to watch, Graeme thinks. Beautiful to watch István offer up their submission like this. Beautiful to see the clear love in Clark’s eyes as he tortures his sub. Watching is almost as good as participating, especially when his Daddy is keeping him right at the edge with his fingering. 

Clark’s humming something under his breath as he pulls the yellow lace panties off István, then kisses the exposed base of István’s spine tenderly. After pulling out the plug with a flourish and dropping it on the bed, he checks István’s lube situation, then slicks his cock with more. “So wet,” he mumbles, pushing inside, holding on István’s rope harness as he sinks all the way inside. 

Dirty words tumble from Clark’s lips, all about István, how tight they are, what a good girl they are. Graeme loses track of it when István’s eyes meet his, and they breathe together as their Doms fuck them. If Graeme was closer, if he wasn’t gagged, he’d kiss them, let their lips sink together, see if István tastes as soft as they look right now, getting pounded into the mattress by their Dom, their face fully flushed and sweaty, their eye makeup smudged from tears. 

Time does the weird dilation thing that is does whenever Graeme’s in a scene. It’s not like it matters how long anything happens - he knows exactly where he’s going to end up and with whom. But for that moment, when he and István lock eyes, time stretches out to its longest possible point, every fuck of Daddy’s fingers a delicious lick that shatters through his system. The noise of the fucking, the noise he himself is making, he drowns it all out by sinking into István’s dark, pupil-blown eyes. 

And then István’s eyes fall shut, a look of ecstasy crossing their face. Graeme looks up to see Clark grab István’s ponytail and harness, arching their back as he fucks into them one final time. Reverently, Clark pulls out, kissing István’s spine once again, then pressing the black plug back in to hold his cum inside. István’s body sags - they can’t have come, not with the cage, but they look blissed out nonetheless, and Graeme’s heart warms. Clark smooths the skirts of the white dress back down over István’s ass, then works on making them comfortable by untying their harness, checking and massaging their joints, and removing the ball gag. 

Daddy’s fingers brushing over his prostate once again make him shudder, his mind confused because he’s watching Isti and Clark in aftercare and he’s not there himself yet. He whimpers again, looking up at Daddy, then tapping his head against Daddy’s thigh deliberately in the signal that means he needs to talk. 

Alan carefully removes his gag, massaging over his sore, tense jaw muscles. “Yes, Baby Boy?” 

“‘M done, I think. I want to go cuddle with Isti.” Daddy looks surprised at his words, but Graeme realizes they’re the truth: his cock is still rock hard, but now that Isti’s sated, all Graeme wants is for the four of them to cuddle up on the bed and take the best nap ever. Besides, István didn’t come, so if they can do it, so can he. 

It’s a very short amount of time before Graeme gets exactly what he wants. He’s cuddled up against István, slowly kissing him, while Daddy spoons him from behind. He hasn’t left his headspace yet, probably won’t until after their nap, but for right now, this is perfect. He falls asleep just like that, Alan’s arms warm around him, his head tucked against István’s, Clark hand on his thigh.


	4. St. Andrew's Cross, Flogging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graeme has never been flogged and Clark just happens to be an expert...

“You’re nervous tonight, more than usual,” Alan comments, gently pulling Graeme’s clothes off and warming him up. “Do we need to change the plan?” 

Graeme shakes his head a little, but leans into Alan’s body, wrapping his arms around as if he can absorb Alan into him. “It just...looks scary, a little.” 

They’re in Clark and István’s guest bedroom, getting Graeme ready for their play date that evening. Dinner had been excellent, but Alan had been able to tell that Graeme’s anxiety had been kicking up all evening. “Flogging is a little scary to see. Clark’s an expert, though.” 

“I know, just- Just everything we’ve done here together, you’ve done to me before. This is...entirely new.” 

Alan pulls Graeme, completely naked before him, into his lap as he sits down on the bed. He cradles him there, petting through his hair. “And it can stay entirely new if you want it to. No one here is going to judge you for coloring out. We can watch Clark flog István, and you know that’ll be pretty.” 

Graeme shivers a little, though the upstairs bedroom is stuffy with the August heat wave. Alan takes care to rub over the goosebumps on his skin gently, kissing his forehead. “It’s one of those things where, like, I want to see how far I can push myself, you know what I mean?” 

“I know, baby boy.” Now Alan sweeps Graeme into a kiss, sinking into it, loving the feeling of Graeme go all soft and pliant in his lap. “You’re so strong. Watching you push your limits is...exhilarating,” Alan admits. There’s a squirmy feeling in his stomach that tells him he might want to push beyond PG-13 for himself tonight, or sometime soon. “Do you want me to get you ready?” 

There’s a heady feeling Alan gets from his baby boy, looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, nodding with just the smallest hint of a grin on his face. Alan cups his face and kisses him more thoroughly. If they were home and alone, he’d take Graeme to bed for some pampering to put him slightly under, and then fuck the hell out of him. He’s excited by tonight’s plans, though. 

When Graeme is softly whimpering into the kiss and his cock is hard between them, Alan finally pulls back, kissing his forehead again. He stands them up, then wraps a light black silk robe around Graeme for the trip downstairs. He keeps one steady arm around Graeme’s waist as they walk to the basement to join István and Clark. 

“What a lovely package you’ve wrapped up for us, Alan,” István purrs, opening his arms to accept Graeme. Alan lets István take him, though his arms feel empty and cold now. 

“My most prized possession, Isti. Take good care of him.” Alan leans against the wall near the St. Andrew’s Cross, not wanting to be too far away in case Clark and István miss something on Graeme’s face that Alan knows because of their vast experience with each other. He trusts everyone in this room implicitly, but vigilance is necessary. 

István’s warming Graeme up in his own way, pushing the robe off of his shoulders and rubbing his hands everywhere, all while kissing him slowly and thoroughly. Alan’s cock twitches at the sight of his baby boy being so happily overwhelmed by the larger István. Graeme’s skin is flushed pink, his cock jutting up against his belly, the head glistening. He moans as István tilts his head and sucks marks down the side of his throat. Eyes half-lidded, he catches Alan’s gaze, and Alan can’t help but purse his lips in a little blown kiss. 

“My sir’s going to make you feel so good, baby. You’re going to love this,” István is murmuring in Graeme’s ear as Graeme shivers. 

Behind them, Clark’s rolling the sleeves of his white button up over his muscled forearms. Alan settles more firmly against the wall - he’s always enjoyed watching Clark work. He’s attended several of the classes Clark has put on at the yoga studio but even still, Alan’s not comfortable attempting flogging himself, especially not with someone as precious as his baby boy is. On the other hand, he’d wanted Graeme to experience it - he’s fairly sure Graeme’s going to love it, that it’ll send Graeme as deep as he’s ever been before, and Alan will be there to pick up the pieces and bring him back from subspace. His heart beats rapidly in excitement. 

“Put him on the cross, honey,” Clark commands, striding over to the drawers that hold their toys. He searches through a particular drawer, then pulls out a black leather flogger. He holds it out to Alan to inspect. “Just got her a few months ago, when we first started meeting up for our play dates. I thought she could be Graeme’s alone.” 

Alan runs his fingers over the stitches, notes the clean musky smell of leather. “Beautiful.” He hands it back over, symbolically handing over his power over Graeme as well. He’ll keep an eye on Graeme, and of course they’ll follow any safewords Graeme uses, but Clark is the Dom with the expertise in this situation. Clark gives Alan a nod in acknowledgement, then they both turn their attention to Isti and Graeme. 

István’s already faced Graeme to the wall; Graeme has his face turned so he can see Alan. As they watch, István raises Graeme’s left arm, pressing kisses all the way up it until he reaches the wrist. He slips the leather cuff around it, tightening it down. “Test your fingers for me, baby. Any pinching? Any tingling?” 

Obliging, Graeme wiggles his fingers. “No, sir. It feels good.” 

“Good boy. And this one?” István repeats the process with his right arm, kissing Graeme’s cheek when he gives another affirmative answer. “Color so far?” 

“Green, sir.” 

István hums with pleasure, pressing a kiss to Graeme’s spine at the top of his neck then working his way down Graeme’s back. He spreads Graeme’s legs, cuffing each ankle, getting Graeme’s go ahead each time. Alan has the pleasure of watching Graeme’s eyes go hazy in the bondage, even though he’s still giving coherent answers. 

With Graeme spread eagle on the cross, István has easy access, and he takes advantage, kneeling between Graeme’s legs and licking directly over Graeme’s hole. Graeme shudders against the cross, pulling at his restraints before realizing he can’t move. “Color?” István prompts again. 

“Gr-green,” Graeme whispers, his eyes directly on Alan’s. 

“So good, baby boy,” Alan murmurs. “So good for us.” 

“Daddy…” Graeme’s voice is slurred already, but he doesn’t seem to want anything, just to acknowledge his daddy in the room. Alan scoots closer, enough to brush a sweet kiss over Graeme’s lips. He truly loves seeing his baby boy like this, all blissed out. After every shitty moment of Graeme’s life, he deserves a lifetime of moments just like this, as a counter balance. 

István leaves Graeme’s hole and kisses his way back up his spine. He reaches down to grab two handfuls of Graeme’s ass and presses himself against Graeme’s body. “I could fuck you just like this,” he says, voice low in Graeme’s ear. Graeme lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, probably against coming so prematurely. István’s filthy mouth is relentless, though. “But that’s one of  _ my _ fantasies. You all tie me up here and fuck me, all three of you, one after the other, just using my hole to dump your cum in. Sounds good, doesn’t it?” István purrs, his words bringing goosebumps up all over Graeme’s skin. 

Turning, István smiles at Clark. “I think he’s ready, sir.” 

Clark’s fingers sink into István’s hair, and he pulls him down for a rough kiss. “Good job, sweetling. Why don’t you go kneel with Alan and watch me work?”

István nods, bringing one of the kneeling pillows over to Alan’s feet and making himself comfortable there. Alan reaches down, letting his fingers pet over István’s hair as they both watch Clark ready himself. 

Clark runs his hand over Graeme’s body, ‘marking’ the spots he’s going to hit with the flogger, the safe spots on Graeme’s flank where he won’t risk internal injury or nerve damage. Flogging is an art, and Clark has become a master over the years. Alan knows that just like the other types of impact play they’ve done, Clark’s going to start with light blows to warm Graeme up - or to give him a taste and let him color out. 

It’s a bit like watching a dancer, following the lines of Clark’s body as he widens his stance and gives himself a good strong base. Anticipation builds thick in the room when he brings his hand up, twisting at the waist - István sits up straighter, Alan’s fingers tighten in his hair, Graeme’s fingers clutch at the cuffs - and bringing the flogger down on Graeme’s thighs. 

Clinically, Alan knows it’s a good blow; Clark’s technique keeps the tails from any of the dangerous wrapping that can cause damage. In reality, though, his concentration is entirely on Graeme’s reaction. Graeme’s skin pinkens from the blow, and he did stiffen a bit against it - as is human nature - but he immediately relaxes again. His fingers unclench from the cuffs, and he opens his eyes. They’re hazy, and Graeme lets out a held breath in a long, pleasured sigh. 

Clark steps to Graeme again, smoothing his hand over the pink skin. “Color, my baby boy?” 

“Green. S’good. ‘M’good.” 

“Yes you are,” Clark praises, pressing a kiss to Graeme’s cheek. “I’m going to go again, okay?” 

With the first blow out of the way, some of the anticipation is cut, but István’s still sitting straight up, his attention riveted on Clark’s movements. When the next blow lands on Graeme’s other thigh, Alan notices that István’s whole body seems to sway into the movement, as if he’s experiencing the blow himself. He even moans a little, his mouth hanging open as he watches Clark and Graeme. 

When Graeme’s response to the second blow is much the same as before - a gasp of pleasure, a melting of his body against the cross, an affirmative color check - Alan drops to his knees beside István and hugs the man from behind. “You wish it were you, don’t you, sweetie?” 

István takes a steadying breath. “I just- I’m glad Graeme’s doing it. But fuck yeah, I wish it was me.” 

“So nice of you to let my baby boy play with your sir like this.” He rubs his hands over István’s chest, warming him, getting him accustomed to his touch. Even kneeling, he’s still taller than István, and he rests his chin on István’s shoulder so they can keep watching together. 

With every blow, István and Alan watch the smooth lines of Clark’s body transfer energy to the flushed skin of Graeme’s ass and thighs. With every blow, István shudders, leaning more of his weight against Alan as he slips down, too. With every blow, Alan watches his baby boy get more and more lost in subspace, his eyes clouded, his breath panting, his lips wet and red from biting. 

Alan senses that Clark is slowing and reaches around, unzipping István and stroking over his cock. “Color? Can I get you off, sweetie?” 

“Mhmm, Ally, please, please sir, please-” István gasps, thrusting into his hand. 

Alan twists his wrist just as Clark lands another blow, and both István and Graeme sob. Graeme’s body is sagging, giving all of his weight to the restraints and the cross. Clark walks to him, warming him from behind with his body. Graeme whimpers at the sensitivity of his skin, but he shudders and relaxes as Clark speaks soothingly in his ear. Clark brushes the tails of the flogger over that sensitive skin, even as he starts jacking Graeme at the same speed Alan’s stroking István. 

Clark looks over his shoulder, nodding at Alan and István, and István cries out, coming all over Alan’s hand, his body melting against Alan’s. At the cross, Clark keeps telling Graeme what a good boy he is, and how proud they are of him, and how beautiful he is all marked up like this, and it takes nothing for Graeme to come, too. 

Alan holds István, and Clark holds Graeme, until they look at each other and share a look of, “Wanna switch?” 

In a few moments, Alan has Graeme out of the cuffs and in his arms in a bridal carry. He sets Graeme carefully on his stomach and takes the lotion Clark hands him even as he settles István in the bed, too. They work together to rub the ointment into Graeme’s skin, checking for any blood or places where the skin split open. Once that’s done, Alan wraps Graeme back up in the silk robe and cradles him against his body. 

Some time later, when Clark’s feeding István an orange and having him take sips of water, Graeme stirs against Alan’s chest. “Mmmph.” 

Alan’s fingers stroke through Graeme’s hair. “How are you feeling, baby?” 

“So fucking good,” Graeme rasps, drinking greedily when Alan brings a water bottle to his lips. “So fucking good, Clark.” 

Clark reaches over to squeeze Graeme’s hand. “You were magnificent.” 

Alan feels Graeme relax against him once more, the kind of relaxation Graeme tends to only ever get to with pain play. Alan warms, holding Graeme tightly, and sharing an appreciative glance with Clark and István. 


	5. Play date 4: The Fucking Machine, and also nipple play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added tags: Fucking Machine, Nipple Clamps, Blindfolds, Comeplay, Come eating, Come marking. 
> 
> As you can see, the fourth play date is a lot of fun! :D

“No, we  _ need _ to do this, Graeme. Clark has such cute little toesies.”

Graeme looks over to where Clark and Alan are ensconced on the couch, each with a beer in their hand as they run through basic negotiations for this month’s play date. Threepio is curled up on Clark’s lap, and Artoo is perched on Alan’s shoulder, kneading his Captain Marvel tee. 

“No, seriously, they’ve got these cute little black curls on his toe knuckles and everything. So adorable. They’d look even better with this bright gold nail paint of yours.” 

“What are you two hatching over there?” Alan calls over to the kitchen island, where he and István have been painting each other’s toenails again. Graeme kind of likes the ritual of it now, making it part of their pre-playdate planning night. 

“I don’t know, but Graeme looks guilty, so I’m guessing Isti’s planning something,” Clark intones dryly. 

István gasps in mock shock, pressing his hand to his chest.  _ “Sir. _ I would  _ never.” _

He ruins the effect by grinning and prancing over - on his three inch heels, no less - to settle in Clark’s lap, displacing an unhappy Threepio. Clark immediately pulls him down for a thorough kiss, even as Graeme walks over more sedately - but still sits in Alan’s lap. Alan’s nose nuzzles against his neck, his lips playing over the white gold chain of Graeme’s collar. Graeme hums, low enough that barely anyone can hear, and tilts his head, allowing Alan better access. 

“Hey, remember, Graeme, baby doll, snitches get stitches,” István warns across the couch, mid-kiss.

“And good boys get rewards,” Alan murmurs against Graeme’s neck. 

“Sounds fake. Are you sure?” István laughs when Clark blows a raspberry against his neck in retaliation. 

“What were you planning, sweetness, O love of my life?” 

“I was just telling Graeme how cute you look with your nails painted. He’s never seen it. C’mon,  _ szerelem.”  _

“And so, what, you were just going to hold me down and paint them or something?” 

“You know I only paint with consent.” 

Graeme snorts again with disbelief. “We had a plan of attack.” 

István gasps again. “Traitor!” 

Graeme laughs, rolling his eyes. “I’m just respecting the Dom chain of command here.” 

“Did you even consider asking, sweetness?” Clark asks István, holding his cheek to keep their eyes locked. 

“No, because sneaking up on you would have been way more fun,” István admits blithely. He laughs when Clark pokes him in the belly. 

“Just for that, Graeme gets to do it. What color, baby?” Clark untucks his feet so Graeme can get at them. They do, indeed, have cute little curls of black hair on the knuckles that Graeme’s never noticed before. 

Graeme grins, jumping up to get his colors. “We were thinking gold.” 

Graeme holds his breath for just a second when one of his Doms slides the blindfold over his eyes. It’s dark enough to block out any light, like if he’d stepped into a pitch black room without having any time for his eyes to adjust, and it immediately disorients him in the best way. 

He thinks he can tell the difference when his Doms’ hands are on him - he at least knows the callused pads of Alan’s fingers from programming after playing together this long - but it’s harder to tell when all three are touching him at once. He’s standing in the basement, and three strong bodies surround him, and each is taking their chance to warm his skin in preparation for the coming scene. 

Someone wraps around him from behind, and Graeme thinks he feels the softness of the yoga pants István had been wearing against his naked skin. He confirms it when he leans back into the comfortingly warm and equally soft cushion of István’s belly and chest. István’s hands smooth down his own stomach, coming down the valley between leg and torso that leads him directly to Graeme’s cock. Before Graeme can get too hard, István’s experienced hands slide a cock ring up and around Graeme’s balls, cutting off the possibility that Graeme’s going to come anytime soon. 

The word for tonight is  _ endurance. _

The next few minutes are a flurry of hands and kisses as the three bodies lead him where they want him in the basement. Graeme knows that they’re heading for the fucking machine, but the utter darkness has him delightfully disoriented. When he stumbles, he feels an arm - he thinks it’s Alan, by the height - come around his waist and hold him up. 

He’s weak-kneed, being surrounded by these three Doms who are doing their best to send him as deeply into subspace as they can. He’s swept up off his feet - the ultimate disorientation, though at least he knows for sure he’s in Alan’s arms - and lowered, his ass and spine coming to rest against a lightly padded seat and bar. His arms are stretched to the side, wrists secured in leather cuffs that remind him of the St. Andrew’s cross. His legs are lifted apart, his feet coming to rest in stirrups. In less than a minute, he’s been deliciously spread, open for everyone to see. He strains against the bonds, testing them, and answers a color check with green, he’s fairly sure. He’s having a hard time stringing any thoughts beyond:  _ Darkness. Open. Doms.  _

Someone licks over his nipple - he and Alan had placed barbells in the other day, a change which always made Graeme squirm with desire - then blows on it, and he shivers. He can feel his nipple pebbling up, sending lightning bolts of pleasure through his chest and spreading out through his entire system. He squirms here, too, but the cuffs - and three sets of Dom hands - hold him still. They whisper to him that he can take it, that he’s a good boy, and he quiets under the hands - at least until someone else bites down on the opposite nipple. 

“He’s such a slut for nipple play,” Clark murmurs near his ear, sounding a little awestruck. “I’ve never seen someone so responsive. He’s going to fucking love this.” 

Graeme whimpers, bearing his neck for Clark, moaning when he’s rewarded with Clark’s wet mouth trailing over his skin. 

“Have you ever made him come just from this? Bet he could.” István’s voice comes from his right side, his breath playing over Graeme’s nipple at his words. 

“Nearly, but we haven’t quite gotten there, yet.” The ‘yet’ in Alan’s voice is full of dark promise. 

“I think he’s ready,” Clark murmurs again, stroking through Graeme’s hair. 

István and Alan back off of his nipples, but not for long. He feels the new coldness of metal against his right nipple, and then the magnetic pincher is clamping down around him in a way that makes him hiss out a groan. The pain makes him feel light headed and floaty, just like flogging, just like impact play, it just makes him so  _ high.  _

It takes him a few moments to realize Clark’s asking him for a color check. 

“Green,” he slurs as he rides the waves of pain radiating out from his nipple. 

Alan’s just as efficient on his left side, the pincher there making pain reverberate around his chest like a feedback loop. He strains against his bonds, thrusting his chest out, not finding any way to escape the delicious licks of pain - and loving it. 

“Aw, baby boy,” Alan whispers, his voice somewhere near Graeme’s ear - honestly, Graeme’s so disoriented now that Alan could be down at his feet and yelling and he’d have no fucking clue, Alan’s voice isn’t important, the  _ pain _ is what’s important. And then Alan’s lips are on his cheek, nuzzling at wetness there, and Graeme realizes he’s crying, his eyes leaking even as he confirms “Green, green, green,” again and again. 

As the pain starts to ebb, to numb out, as the cobwebs of subspace start to clear to a plateau, Graeme feels someone pressing at his hole with a lubed finger. 

Because no, the clamps aren’t the only part of the torture planned for this evening, and Graeme had sort of forgotten that. 

Hands press against his thighs, opening him even wider as they prepare him for the fucking machine. The movements jostle the clamps on his nipples, which sends him into another pain feedback loop. He writhes against the bonds - no one’s concerned with holding him still anymore - loving the feeling of how the cuffs hold him tightly. 

He’s not sure when it happened, but somehow he’s being stretched by three fingers, now, the expert digits avoiding his prostate and stretching his rim, as if his pleasure in being fucked is not paramount, as if he’s just a hole to be used. And used by a  _ machine, _ as if the rest of them can’t be bothered to fuck him personally. 

When he feels the slick head of the dildo press against his rim, he stills, loosening, wanting it to happen. Surrender. The dildo is thrust into him a few times - probably one of his Doms making sure it’s not going to hurt him when it starts fucking - and then there’s a mechanic whirring, and the dildo starts to pound him in a deep, steady rhythm. It’s slow right now, the head of the dildo pressing over his prostate in a torturous, glorious glide. 

And then all of the hands leave him, and he can feel the presence of his Doms physically taken away from him. Somewhere in some deep recess of his mind that’s not currently blissed out and high from subspace, he knows that none of his Doms would actually leave him alone like this; that they’d decided to blindfold him precisely so they could watch him carefully while giving Graeme that illusion he loves of being left like this. The thought’s what keeps him from freaking out; he shivers instead, thinking about how on display he is, how he’s being used, that this is what he’s good for. 

And the dildo, operated by the machine, is relentless. When his daddy fucks him, even with a dildo, there’s a human element, a human feeling behind it. He speeds and slows according to Graeme’s reactions. The machine allows no such feeling - it just fucks, and fucks, and fucks into him, an unstoppable force. And each time he moves, each time his chest heaves with breath, the nipple clamps shift slightly, bringing sensation into numb skin, sending bolts of pleasured pain through his system. 

He’s not sure how long he’s left alone, his nerve endings raw with anticipation, but suddenly he senses a presence again, and then he feels the air shift around him. It takes a cock head pressing against his lips for Graeme to realize that one of his Doms is kneeling over his chest and demanding entrance to his mouth. 

Graeme’s lips easily slide open, and idly he wonders who he’s sucking off; he can’t tell like this, it’s all just the salty bitter taste of precum and the slide of skin in his mouth. He lolls his tongue around the head like a lollipop, and whomever it is, they don’t press any farther than Graeme is comfortable with, they don’t block his breath or try to shove into his throat. They match the speed of the fucking machine below, though, so Graeme can feel himself being fucked on both ends at the same pace. 

He could keep the cock there forever, given his propensity for cock warming, but his Dom has other ideas, pulling out. He can hear the slick stroke of skin on skin, and then a groan, and then his chin, neck, and chest are splattered with cum. It’s warm, but rapidly cools against his skin, providing a different type of sensation as the presence moves away. 

Graeme lets his mouth hang open invitingly, but neither of the other Doms take him up on it right away. Instead, there’s movement below, and then the fucking machine is stopped, fresh lube applied, Graeme’s hole checked. With everything okay, the machine is set to a higher pace than before, making Graeme whimper and toss his head to the side. Cum slides down his chin. 

Another presence, then, and two fingers swipe through the cum and shove it into his mouth. He suckles on the fingers automatically, missing cock in his mouth desperately. This Dom is obliging, sliding his cock in right away. His hand takes Graeme’s hair, pulling Graeme up from the ground to fuck inside. Despite the rough play, the Dom still doesn’t push Graeme’s boundaries, and Graeme tries to give him the most enthusiastic blow job he’s ever received in the process. 

Again, the Dom pulls out, and comes all over Graeme. Graeme can’t even begin to imagine how filthy he looks, constantly being fucked, covered in cum, his nipples peaked - and probably purple - under the clamps. His cock is making valiant attempts to get hard under the cock ring, and he knows he’s at least got a semi. 

The third Dom comes to him slow and sweet, making the blow job last and last and last as the machine fucks Graeme. He has a sneaking suspicion this one is his daddy - he likes to think his tongue would know this cock anywhere. Maybe he’ll ask them all the order later, or maybe he’ll keep it a mystery. 

When the third Dom finishes, all over Graeme’s stomach, Graeme hears a shutter click several times, the sound echoing above the mechanical noise of the fucking machine. Graeme’s whole body shivers at the pleasurable embarrassment of knowing there’s photographic proof of exactly how much of a slut he is for his Doms. 

“That’s right, baby boy,” Alan purrs in his ear. “You look so fucking good. So fucking wrecked, you have no idea.” 

Graeme’s whole body tries to curve toward Alan’s voice, though it’s not successful. The move makes Alan laugh, though, low in his ear. “I’m going to take the blindfold off now, baby. Don’t open yours eyes yet. Do it slowly.” 

Letting light, sight back in is a heady experience. As Alan’s face slowly materializes in front of him, Graeme realizes they’ve turned the basement lights off, that the gloamin outside is all that’s providing light. In the gray haze, Graeme can see the shapes and lines of István and Clark, wrapped up in each other, kissing, their sated dicks lying outside of their underwear still.  _ I did that, _ Graeme thinks, pride blooming in him.  _ I made them happy.  _

“Are you ready to come, baby boy? You made everyone else feel good, we want you to feel good, too.” Alan’s fingers stroke over his half-hard dick. 

It snaps Graeme back into realizing that the nipple clamps are still working their magic on him, that the fucking machine is still working him over relentlessly, thoroughly. He nods at Alan. “Please, Daddy, please let me come.” 

Alan slips off the cock ring, stroking him to a full erection. “Show him what he looks like, Isti,” Alan commands, continuing to jack Graeme, playing his tongue along Graeme’s earlobe. 

Graeme blinks at the brightness of the phone screen István holds out for him, then blinks again at the sight of himself on the tiny screen. He looks... _ magnificent. _ His skin is flushed red and pink everywhere, his limbs bound down, his mouth open and ready for more cock. He’s covered, from his cheek to his navel, in the cum Clark, István, and Alan had left behind. His hole is red and spread obscenely open around the dildo as it still fucks into him, and his nipples are  _ gorgeous, _ purple and standing straight up, elongated and pinched between silver clamps. 

His stomach clenches at the sight, and he fights against coming right then and there. István and Clark move over, though, each of them hovering over one of his nipple clamps. 

“Get ready,” Alan warns, kissing Graeme’s brow. “Three, two, one…” 

Clark and István simultaneously release the clamps, and a pain more intense than Clark’s flogging floods his chest. He gasps, his cock immediately spasming cum all over Alan’s hand. The orgasm vibrates through his whole body, the rush of pain and endorphins sending him high, high, so fucking high,  _ soaring. _ The fucking machine batters at his prostate, extending the orgasm until Graeme completely whites out. 

Graeme grunts when one of the cats jumps directly on his sore ass the next morning. Aftercare was definitely a thing that happened, and Graeme remembers being mostly coherent when he and Alan came home, but he doesn’t remember much after that. He moves his head to check his body, and yup, he’s naked, so he has a feeling he went from walking into the apartment to falling into bed in four easy steps. Alan probably got his clothes off at some point. 

Graeme feels battered and sore - but definitely not broken. His whole body is clinging to the euphoria he felt last night. Even - he turns around to check which cat is currently making residence by kneading into his ass cheeks through the summer blankets - even Threepio on his sore ass is not putting a dampener on his feelings. 

“Hollllly fuck,” he groans, voice scratchy. When no one responds, he assumes Alan’s elsewhere in the apartment, though he’s too lazy to actually turn around and investigate. 

Instead, he pulls over his phone - fully charged, probably also thanks to Alan - and opens up their group chat - what Graeme has playfully named the Sex Dungeon. 

** Graeme:** That was amazing amazing amazing amazing

And then he presses a random string of emojis that he hopes conveys his message. 

He hears Alan’s phone beep with the incoming text somewhere in the apartment, then counts the seconds until Alan appears at his side. Thirty-four. He loves this guy. He smiles goofily at Alan crouching beside his side of the bed. “Hey. I love you. Like hella a lot.” 

Alan grins, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. “I concur.” 

Graeme snorts at Alan’s false-snooty tone. “Hey, those pics, István shared those with us, right?” 

“They’re on the private server, yes. For our lonely winter nights, hmm?” 

Graeme can feel his grin stretch his tired face. “Yeah, we absolutely need to keep them. For reasons. And also, we really need to look into more nipple gear.” 

This time Alan laughs, even as he kisses Graeme gently and sweetly.


	6. Istvan's Birthday: fisting, overstimulation, costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For September, the guys celebrate Istvan's birthday. 
> 
> Kinktober tags: Fisting, overstimulation, costumes, toys, consensual somnophilia
> 
> And with this I have officially completed 38 of the kinktober tags, and in October no less! It's not 31 different fics but it's good enough for me!

**Graeme: ** It’s Isti’s birthday this month, so he should get to choose what we do ;)

**István: ** Look at that sub-on-sub support right there

**István:** But yes, I accept, as one of probably a billion September babies, I shall make the arrangements. 

The doorman hands Graeme a large package when he walks in the door. It’s addressed to him, not Alan, and though he doesn’t remember ordering anything, he figures it’s a present from Alan and sets it on the kitchen table for later. He’s halfway through making spaghetti for dinner when Alan gets home, wrapping his arms around Graeme and pressing a kiss just under his ear. 

It hasn’t gotten chilly outside yet, summer clinging on in September, but Graeme shivers regardless. “Something came for me today. I wasn’t sure if I should open it...Daddy.” He nods over to the kitchen table. 

Alan’s eyes light up. “If I’m correct,  _ that _ is the outfit István asked me to order for you for his birthday playdate.” 

Graeme has a feeling his own eyes light up. “Oh?” he manages, casually, looking back at the box and sizing it up. “Do I get to open it now?” 

“I think he wants it to be a surprise, but I’ll text and check. All I remember is that my marching orders are to dress you up before we get there. Guess you’ll be wearing your trenchcoat again.” 

A blush rises on Graeme’s cheeks as he remembers the time he walked into Alan’s work wearing a trenchcoat - with corset and panties underneath. “And you’re not going to tell me until day of?” 

He can’t hide the excitement in his voice; he knows it because Alan grins at him, his eyes dancing. 

“I’ll check with Isti,” Alan repeats, pulling out his phone. His grin is sly, though, and Graeme knows that even if István gives him the go ahead, his Daddy isn’t going to tell him the secret anytime soon. 

So maybe Graeme sticks his tongue out at Alan.

And then maybe Alan pulls the spaghetti sauce off the heat so that dinner can be very delayed. 

“Ready?” 

Alan’s already dressed, apparently, though he doesn’t look much different from when they all go out to eat at a mid-scale restaurant: black slacks and a gray henley, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. 

“Is this shirt new?” Graeme asks, naked and completely comfortably so, fingering over the material of Alan’s sleeve. 

“Yeah. You recognize the color? István sent me the link for this, too.” 

Graeme arches a brow in inquiry. 

“It’s your eyes,” Alan says softly, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Graeme’s back and kiss the tip of Graeme’s nose. 

Graeme melts a little in Alan’s embrace. Isti really did think of everything. 

“Okay, get me ready to be unwrapped by István.” 

Alan grins and turns to the box. 

On his birthday, István wakes exactly how he loves to be woken up: Clark’s hard cock, sliding slowly in and out of him, his own arousal already pushing toward climax. He gasps in a breath as Clark’s cock nudges over his prostate, and reaches behind him to clutch at Clark’s hip, holding him tightly. 

“Mmmm, hey sweetie, good morning.” Clark’s lips play over the back of his neck, making him shiver. 

He loves this; loves that Clark can take his pleasure whenever he wants, loves that Clark loves how greedy and insatiable his hole is that he’d even take it asleep. He feels slutty, hot, perfect as Clark’s hips snap again. 

“There we go, Isti, clench down for me. Show me how tight you can make it.” 

Being woken like this basically sends István directly from a dreaming space to subspace. The first few times it had been disorienting, but considering Clark liked to wake him up like this at least twice a week and they’d been together for eight years, well, István’s not exactly up to math right now but the point is, he’s feeling fucking  _ fine. _

He moves his hand to the sheets, clutching them there instead. Clark slides his hand up István’s side, moving his night shirt up - he only wears pants to bed in the coldest days of winter, preferring easy access at all times for his Sir - and running his fingers over the smooth skin of his belly. Clark’s breath is hot, panting against István’s ear as he thrusts. He groans, telling István how good his hole is, how tight and warm he is, keeping up the dirty talk until István is somehow a puddle in fucking human form, there for Clark’s pleasure alone. 

Clark hammers his prostate, sending István startlingly close to the edge. He cries out, then groans when Clark’s fingers wrap around the base of his cock and cut the orgasm off. 

“Who said you could come?” Clark’s words are harsh in his ears, making him shiver. 

“But-” István gasps, the head of Clark’s dick seeming determined to batter at his prostate. “-But it’s my birthday-” 

Clark makes a little noise, something like “Huh,” if they weren’t both panting and near the edge. 

The implication that his Sir could have forgotten his birthday, that he just woke István up like this because he wanted to, because all he cares about is using István for his pleasure, sends István  _ soaring. _ In the back of his brain, he knows Clark is just playing a game with him, that he hasn’t forgotten, but in the moment, it’s just so. Fucking. Good. 

Clark makes a show over debating whether or not he should care that it’s István’s birthday, even as he keeps István’s cock caged and keeps using his hole. “I guess I could give you a choice, sweetheart.” He pauses, cock still splitting István open, balls deep. “As a birthday present. Either you don’t come at all today, or I spend the day making you come as many times as I can. And when Alan and Graeme come over, they’ll do it, too. Which do you want, my sweet Isti?”

István shudders, clutching at the sheets, crying a little as he tries to make the decision. Every nerve ending is on fire, and he imagines spending all day like this, on edge. Then he imagines three beautiful men all working to make him come as many times as humanly possible today and that’s what clenches it. “I want to come, pleeease, I want to come,” he begs. 

“God, you’re so pretty when you beg. We’re going to be hearing that a lot today I bet. Pleease, let me come,” Clark says in imitation of István’s wrecked voice. “Pleeease, stop touching me, I can’t come anymore, pleeease stop. Fucking. Me.” He punctuates each word with a thrust as he lets István’s cock go. 

István cries out, his eyes squeezing shut. Everything is tingling, he feels so fucking good. 

Clark bites down on his neck, pulsing inside him, painting him with cum, and that’s what sends István over. He comes untouched this first time, spilling over the sheets. His mouth is open, panting still, his head buzzing in subspace. He feels Clark pull out, only to have another large object pushed inside. Clark works the flare of the plug over at its widest point, trapping all of his cum inside István. 

When he’s a little more clear-headed, though not nearly out of subspace, not with the plug inside him and the knowledge that that orgasm was the first of many today, he realizes Clark is in front of him now, tracing his fingers over the tattooed collar on István’s skin. István shudders at the look of pleasure and awe in Clark’s face, like he still can’t quite believe that István agreed to be his so permanently that it’s etched into his skin. Clark sees István watching him, and smiles a toothy grin, bringing a physical collar up around István’s neck too. It’s black leather, supple with use and gorgeous. It’s familiar around István’s neck, and Clark cinches it just a little close to the edge of too tight - a way for them to play with breath play even when Graeme’s here. It in no way cuts off István’s breathing, but the snug fit simulates it enough for István, at least when he’s in the illogical world of subspace. 

“Come on, love. Time to get up, our guests will be coming soon, and we need to make sure you’re ready for them.” 

True to his word, Clark doesn’t let up teasing him as he wraps a flowy cream silk robe over István’s shoulders. He smooths his hands down István’s body, lighting up touch receptors everywhere, then nudges the plug nestled between his cheeks. The plug moves easily inside - because of Clark’s cum, István realizes, which makes him feel faint, like his knees are going to stop supporting him. 

“I’ve got you,” Clark murmurs, wrapping an arm around István’s waist.

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“What a sweetheart you are.” 

It’s interesting, this floating through subspace still while also having Clark in aftercare mode. Especially when Clark pushes him down to the floor to kneel on one of his pillows to watch as Clark gets dressed. He’s sated, floaty, but Clark makes him  _ want more. Everything.  _

Clark pulls on simple clothes - István vaguely remembers buying the cream henley and khaki green slacks himself earlier this month. He’d chosen them to compliment the tone of Clark’s skin, and he did well. Clark looks so handsome, and that’s not just the endorphins talking. 

“Up,” Clark commands, and now that István’s a little more clear-headed, he’s able to push himself up from kneeling and stand before Clark. “Come on.” 

István’s fairly sure if Clark had connected him to a leash, he couldn’t have followed any closer or better. He’s proud of his legs for walking so smoothly when all they want to do is shake at the continual pressure the plug is putting on his prostate. 

In the kitchen, Clark makes him sit on one of the stools as Clark hand feeds him french pastries and fruit for breakfast. The combination of the plug and being hand fed keeps István deep in subspace, his every movement attuned to his Dom. 

When the doorbell rings, István almost falls off the stool in shock, he’d been paying so close attention to the minute details of Clark’s hands as he fed him. 

“Let me go get our guests,” Clark murmurs, kissing István’s forehead. He pulls István up to stand. “I think you should greet them properly.” 

He manhandles István around and presses his palms to the counter. He makes István arch his back and thrust his ass out, then pushes the robe up over István’s hips. “Mmm, perfect, sweetie.” He slaps István’s ass for good measure, for a job well done looking how he does, and István’s knees wobble. 

He holds the position, though, as Clark leads Alan and Graeme in. Graeme has a trenchcoat clutched around him, and their feet are bare - they must have ditched their shoes by the door. Graeme already looks a little hazy, his lips red and swollen as if he and Alan have been making out. He lets out a small gasp, seeing István this way, ready to be used. 

“István wants to offer you his hospitality,” Clark says as he walks over, smoothing a hand over the small of István’s back and pushing him down farther. “If you want, of course.” 

István watches Graeme’s face go red, his eyes go desirous. But he looks up at Alan before he makes a move in István’s direction. 

“I’m R for now, but I might change my mind later. Baby Boy, did you want to fuck István? Look how pretty he is for us?” 

Graeme’s eyes widen and he nods eagerly. 

“Let me just get you ready, then.” Alan unties the trench coat and pulls it off, exposing Graeme’s body. 

He looks gorgeous, an intricate web of orange ribbons and straps criss-crossing his skin and reminding István of shibari. The moment he’d seen it online, he knew he had to see Graeme in. He’d sent the link to Alan immediately. They cross around his cock, already stiffening, accentuating it and not covering it at all, and István knows that the back is equally exposing of his hole. Everything works it’s way up into a harness on the top half of Graeme’s body, and it’s that harness that Alan takes ahold of now, walking him toward István. 

Graeme can barely breathe at the sight before him. There’s something so deliciously alien about seeing István like this, about knowing that he’s about to fuck István, one sub to another, just because their Doms say they can. He stumbles and Alan steadies him, moving him behind István’s body. Alan stands behind him, his hands holding Graeme’s hips as if he was about to fuck Graeme instead of Graeme being about to fuck István. He reaches around, stroking Graeme to full hardness as Graeme moans and tries to remember to breathe. Graeme realizes belatedly that Alan had already produced lube and slicked Graeme’s cock with it. 

“You’ll have to pull the plug out, Baby Boy,” Clark says, sounding amused as he leans against the counter right by István and watches the entire thing with heavy-lidded eyes. 

Graeme nods, reaching out unsteady fingers to touch it. His nudging makes István vibrate, his skin pebbling, and Graeme lets out a breath at the feeling of power. Of how happy he’s going to make István. He presses against the plug again and again, just to watch István’s reaction. 

“Is Isti allowed to come today?” Alan asks, voice sounding clinical in a way that turns Graeme on. 

“He did choose that option, yes. In fact, I think he’s due for another orgasm right about now, actually. Why don’t you get him started, Graeme?” 

His fingers shake as he pulls at the plug, knowing exactly how István feels right now. As the plug pops free, a little cum dribbles out of István’s hole and Graeme groans, drawn inexorably forward. He grips István’s hip and uses his other hand to steady his cock, placing the head at István’s hole. 

He’s fucked Daddy exactly twice, and no one else, and with Alan’s strong body pushing him forward from behind, and Clark’s hot eyes on him, this feels entirely different. He slides in slowly but surely until he’s in, as far as he can go. 

“That’s right, Baby Boy, just like that. Doing so good. Look how much Isti loves that.” 

Indeed, István’s clutching at the counter, a look of bliss on his face. 

Graeme feels Alan’s hard cock pressing against his ass, and he suddenly has a flash of what a beautiful train they’d all make. It distracts him from Alan pulling at his hips, then pushing him back, making him thrust inside István. Like he’s using Graeme as a fuck toy, a dildo for István’s pleasure. 

Graeme’s entire body shivers and shakes at the thought. He jerks his hips, just so Alan will help him smooth out the movements; this is ever so much better than just fucking someone. His Daddy  _ making him _ fuck someone… Graeme can feel pleasure tingling down into his toes. 

He realizes instantly that he’s not going to last much longer. “Can- Can I come, Daddy?” 

It’s Clark who answers. “You can, I can finish him off.” 

Graeme and István both turn their heads toward Clark, whose pants are down below his cock; he’s steadily stroking himself as he watches. István groans, a string of drool dropping out of his mouth and down onto the counter. 

Clark pushes himself up and comes to stand by Graeme, his hand caressing over the small of Graeme’s back. “C’mon, Baby Boy, show him what you have. He needs it hard.” 

Clark reaches down to pull at István’s hair, pulling his head up off the counter and forcing him to arch his back. “Look at how fucking ready he is. Fuck him hard, baby.” 

Graeme groans, and he and Alan both move faster to comply with Clark’s command. Alan’s hard cock is rubbing against his ass still, and István’s so tight around him, and wet from Clark’s cum, and he can’t- he can’t hold on-

Fireworks explode in his brain as he comes, his entire body stiffening. Alan pushes him in a few more times, still using him, but he’s absolutely senseless. He shudders, panting, his heart quaking. He’s not sure he’s ever come so hard in his life. 

And then Alan’s pulling him out and back into his arms. His dick is sloppy -  _ Clark’s cum too, _ Graeme thinks, a thrill jolting through his system - and so is István’s twitching hole. But before he can reach out and shove the cum on István’s ass into his hole, Clark replaces them and thrusts into István hard. 

Alan strokes over Graeme’s cock, making him shudder through the sensitivity, then brings up the mix of their cum and lets Graeme lick it off his fingers. “You want more, baby? I bet István would love to use that beautiful mouth of yours.” 

Graeme whimpers, falling directly to his knees - ignoring the pain in his kneecaps at the tile floor - and crawling in between István’s legs. It’s a little difficult, Clark is fucking István hard just as he’d directed Graeme to do, and their bodies are jolting around. It’s worth it, though, when Graeme wraps his lips around István’s cock. 

István’s strangled cry is music to Graeme’s ears, and he eagerly gets into the blow job, moving with their thrusting bodies to give István the best experience. He sees Alan’s legs move closer, and then Clark’s moaning, too, and Graeme wonders what Alan’s doing to him. Maybe kissing over his neck, he  _ loves _ when Alan kisses his neck. Maybe whispering words of encouragement - would a Dom do that to another Dom? He’s not sure, but it seems hot. 

He adds his hand, using it to stimulate István’s entire cock, and it’s only two or three strokes of that before István’s shooting off in Graeme’s mouth. Above him, everyone groans, Clark delivering another load to István’s ass. Graeme moves around quickly, catching any escaping cum before Clark can shove the plug back in. 

“Need to keep you open, sweetie, for what you’re going to take later.” 

István grunts, his body weight leaning on the counter and propped up only by Clark’s arm around his waist. And then Alan’s helping Graeme up off the floor and pulling him into his arms, rubbing all over his skin and telling him what a good boy he is. 

Graeme remembers vaguely negotiating the plan for later. Now he’s wondering if they all bit off more than they can chew. But somehow, they all make it down to the basement without anyone falling and breaking their neck, and they tumble into bed. Clark and Alan bookend them, he and István facing each other in the middle, and it’s so natural to just slide over into István’s arms and make out with him as they float around in the heaven that is subspace. 

Alan scoots up behind him, his cock still semi-hard against Graeme’s ass. “That’s it, baby. He needs to come again soon. Can you get him all excited for us?” 

The command gives Graeme another delicious lick of power, and he nods eagerly. He’s never had much use for seduction in his life; in the time before Alan, transactions required no seduction, and now, he seduces Alan just by breathing, so…

But he puts everything into, sliding into kiss after kiss with István until their lips are swollen and their breath coming in gasps. He runs his hands over István’s body, playing with his nipples, sliding down to rock the plug in his hole, petting over his stomach and hips and thighs. From behind, Clark sucks on István’s neck the same way Alan is kissing his, intensifying things all that much. 

Eventually, eager to play some more after this long makeout session, Graeme’s hand finds its way to István’s semi-hard cock, and he strokes in earnest. Lube joins his hand somehow, making the slide easier, and István’s whimpering against him - shying away from his touch, but not coloring out. 

“C’mon, Isti. I know you can take this. It’s been too long since you came, we need to clear you out.” Clark’s voice is steady and encouraging, making István only whimper more. 

Soon, instead of shying away from his hand, István’s slowly thrusting into it, slowly fucking it, chasing the bliss. 

“I think he’s ready, Baby boy,” Alan murmurs. “Are you?” 

Graeme nods eagerly even though he’s still making out with István. He feels Alan pull away from his back. There’s a rustling sound, and then Alan’s there again, and something heavy drops by Graeme on the bed. He glances down at it, and grins against István’s lips when he recognizes the fisting dildo. 

There’s a flurry of readjustment, and then Alan’s sitting against the headboard, István between his legs. István’s lying back against his chest, and Alan’s using his own knees to keep István spread wide in his lap, his silk robe open and fluttering around him, his body flushed, the plug still keeping him open. Graeme kneels in front of Isti, and Clark beside him, ready to guide Graeme through using the dildo on István. 

István looks absolutely out of his mind, but Alan’s got a steady hold on him, because his Daddy is Steady, indeed. István’s head is thrown back against his shoulder, his face flushed and sweaty, and Alan keeps smoothing his hair out of his face and kissing him everywhere. 

“Okay, you ready, Baby Boy?” Clark asks, his hand resting on Graeme’s shoulder. 

“Yeah.” Graeme grins at Clark eagerly. 

“Take out the plug - slowly, we don’t want to lose all of that cum in him, do we?” 

Graeme shakes his head, his attention completely intent on the plug in István’s hole. He feels like he’s a jewel thief trying to fool a pressure sensor as he slowly works it out, making sure to stretch István a bit over the widest part. 

“Very, very good, baby. You’re a natural.” 

Graeme shivers at the praise. 

“Now, we need to see how many fingers he’s stretched for. Start with three.” 

Graeme nods, concentrating, but it takes no effort - the three fingers slide into István’s sloppy hole like butter. Graeme groans at the sight, watching István’s hole flutter around his fingers. 

“Mmm, yeah, look at that. So open for us. Now your pinkie.” Clark drops a little more lube into Graeme’s hand. 

He scissors and stretches, making István shudder, until he has all four fingers inside, his thumb resting against István’s perineum and pressing there, his fingers wiggling inside to massage his prostate from both sides. István cries out, burying his face in Alan’s neck as Alan soothes him, but he doesn’t use a safeword or signal. 

Graeme’s panting heavily, watching his fingers disappear inside István’s wide stretched hole. He wants his own hole stuffed like this, he decides, but it’s Isti’s birthday and he shouldn’t be greedy. 

Clark hands him the dildo shaped like a hand with the thumb folded over and the fingers steepled together. It’s already slick, and Graeme wastes no time pulling it out and working it slowly into István’s hole. It slides in halfway all in one go before it reaches the limit of how far he’d stretched István so far, but with lube, and patience, and coaxing, István’s hole stretches enough to accomodate the entire fist. Graeme can’t hold back, using one hand to keep the dildo inside and another to stroke himself at the site of the taut skin stretched to the brink. 

“Mm mm, honey,” Clark says. “István gets to come first, it’s his birthday.” 

Graeme flushes at the reprimand but nods, leaning over István’s body to get the best leverage to fuck the fist dildo slowly in and out of István. 

He gasps, then moans, when he feels wet fingers at his own hole. He twists around to see Clark arching a brow at him as if he’s shrugging nonchalantly.  _ Evil Dom. _

He needs to remember that about Clark, Graeme thinks with an internal grin. 

Now, as he fucks István, Clark fucks him, the reward more than enough to get Graeme going. Above them, István and Alan are kissing, and Graeme can tell that Alan’s rubbing himself against István’s back, getting himself off as Graeme fists István. 

Still, István’s already come at least twice today, and his cock, while stiff, remains stubbornly so. Graeme continues to fuck István’s hole, but he starts pressing against István’s perineum again, then leans over to lick István’s balls, trying to bring in every type of stimulation. 

It’s when Graeme takes one of István’s balls in his mouth and gently rolls it around that István stiffens, his cock barely shooting any cum, nothing left at the moment to empty. It’s still gorgeous and so fucking hot to watch. 

“Yellow-” István gasps, moving his hips away from the dildo, and everyone stops. 

Clark leaves Graeme to kneel down and kiss István’s forehead. He smoothes back István’s sweaty hair. “What can I do, Isti? What do you need?” 

“A break,” István shudders out on a breath. 

“We can do that, my sweet sweet Isti. I’ve got you now.” 

Though he’s seen it before, it never fails to make Graeme’s heart light up as he watches Clark go into aftercare mode with István. Their love for each other is just so obvious in moments like that. Graeme watches as Clark replaces Alan, cuddling István between his legs and stroking over his hair. 

“Do you want a plug still?” Clark asks quietly. 

István nods, his movements already betraying how tired he is. Clark nods at Alan, who helps Graeme reslick the plug from before and slide it easily into István’s gaping hole. Alan gives him a warm cloth, and Graeme wipes off István’s stomach lovingly. 

He’s still achingly hard, though, his own hole still twitching from Clark’s fingers earlier. Still, it’s not his birthday-

“Daddy should take care of his Baby Boy,” István murmurs against Clark’s chest. “Baby Boy did a very good job. He deserves another orgasm.” 

Excitement flutters in his chest as all three of them look at him, still kneeling between István’s legs. But- “Are you sure?” 

Isti grins. “Green. For that, anyway. I want to watch.” 

Graeme turns to Alan, then lowers his head in submission. 

“God, baby,” Alan says on a blown out breath. “So gorgeous. You did such a good job.” 

He feels Alan’s lips press to his forehead, and then his body is being moved- he’s not quite sure what Daddy has in mind until he’s on his back right next to Clark and István and Alan covers him with his body. He leans in, whispering in his ear, “I’m going NC-17.” His little chuckle tickles Graeme’s neck and makes him shiver. 

Alan reaches down, checking his hole with lubed fingers, then sliding over his own cock. Clark’s fingering has him more than ready, and he holds his breath as Alan slides into him. He brings Graeme’s legs up over his shoulders, pretzeling Graeme and pushing him into the mattress as he thrusts. Graeme watches Alan first, but then his gaze slides to István and Clark. He thought maybe István was going to fall asleep, but he’s still watching Graeme get fucked with half-lidded eyes. 

Despite coming earlier, there’s something about his Daddy’s cock that always gets Graeme going, and every thrust over his prostate, every kiss Alan sucks into his neck, every word of encouragement coming from Clark and István, has him hurtling rapidly to the edge. 

“You did such a good job, Baby Boy. Come for us now.” Alan combines his words with a few pumps of Graeme’s cock, and Graeme’s a goner. He clings to Alan’s body as he comes, moaning Alan’s name, and how much he loves him, and how much he loves  _ them.  _

Alan joins him quickly, shuddering into him, and then there’s only the sound of their quick breathing. 

“Happy birthday to  _ me,” _ István murmurs, and there’s a laugh - though weak from overexertion - all around. 

“Have birthday foursomes become our tradition?” Alan asks as he maneuvers around so that Graeme’s laying atop him instead of taking his weight. 

“Pretty great fucking tradition.” Everyone hums an agreement and shares an eager grin at Clark’s quiet words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm marking this fic as complete for now, but I'll revisit it like I do the one-shots fic, when I have an idea. 
> 
> For instance, I'm still wanting to do a spit roasting scene with Graeme in the middle. 
> 
> Oh, also, Graeme's costume is inspired by Leelu's in the Fifth Element, but more...naked. :D


	7. Phone Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Istvan video chat with Graeme and have some fun. ;)
> 
> CW: While this story is not about COVID-19, it makes illusions to it. It's meant to be smutty and fluffy (and I think it achieves that) but please bear in mind that it will be mentioning the pandemic tangentially.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came into being because I've been thinking about my fictional Seattle boys and girls and nonbinary folks. I've thought a lot of things, but also a lot of things I don't have the wherewithal right now to write. So this fic isn't in any way meant to be dismissive of the pandemic, it's just not focusing on it because honestly, I just needed some time with these guys. 
> 
> I do, however, have some COVID-19 related, more dark and possibly stressful, head canons for these folks that I'll put in the end comments if you'd like to avoid them.

“Hey, Baby Boy,” István’s voice purrs over FaceTime, his image giving Graeme a seductive smile. “How are you?” 

There are a million ways Graeme could answer that, and in fact, _ has _ answered that already today. He and Alan had video chatted with István and Clark for an hour earlier today, trying to stay connected and also planning out this scene. They’d decided that this call, though, wouldn’t bring up the outside world, the reason why they’re doing this over FaceTime and not in person. Everyone needs a break. 

So Graeme’s answer isn’t, _ I’m stressed. I’m worried about our city. I’m afraid for Alan’s parents. I’m concerned for all of the people who I used to be like, without a steady income or health insurance or a safety net… _

No, his answer is: “Lonely. Daddy’s off on his treadmill finishing up some work,” in his most coquettish voice. 

“Well, we can keep you company, can’t we?” Through his laptop screen, Graeme watches Clark wrap an arm around István’s waist. They’re in bed, just like he is, their device apparently settled on its side as they lay together, Clark spooning István.

István’s wearing a silk slip, or maybe a nightgown, that’s conveniently crept up to show off his smooth, silky thighs. What Graeme wouldn’t give to press kisses up those legs until he reaches István’s cock and-

He lets out an impatient little hum, which makes István and Clark smile. “Do you have your supplies?” István asks, settling more into Clark’s arms. 

“Yes, sirs.” Graeme tips the laptop to the side to show the cock ring, lube, and vibrator he’d been told to collect. 

“I can see you’re not naked for us yet.” Clark’s voice sounds stern, making Graeme’s heart jump a little. 

“I didn’t want to, um, without you-” 

“It’s all right, Baby Boy, you’re perfect.” 

The way Clark says it soothes everything inside Graeme again. He blows out a breath as they go over safe words, reminding himself of what Clarissa had said at their digital therapy session: his starting level of anxiety is much higher right now, so he may have more extreme reactions than he normally does, and that’s okay, as long as he’s aware that that’s all it is. 

“Can you get naked for me, baby?” István purses his lips in a little kissing motion. 

“Yes, sir.” Graeme sets the laptop to the side and pulls off his pajama top - one of Alan’s roomy nerd shirts - and bottoms, sitting cross legged in front of the webcam.

István hums, moving a little when Clark’s hand caresses his stomach. Graeme can see that his cock is starting to press, just a bit, against the silk. “Can you open up for me? Show me your cock, Baby Boy.” 

Graeme leans back against the pillows he’d piled up just for this scene, unfolding his legs and spreading them to either side of the laptop to give them a full view. At their sounds of appreciation, Graeme’s body starts to flush. 

“Slide the cock ring on before you get any more excited, baby. You’re not coming tonight until we say you can.” Clark’s voice is stern, again, but Graeme’s expecting it this time. 

It’s his favorite ring, the one that was probably stupidly expensive that matches his white-gold nipple rings and collar. The one that matches the white gold ring on his finger from the simple ceremony they’d had at the courthouse before going into isolation. Because-- life isn’t guaranteed. 

Graeme shakes himself out of it and finishes positioning the cock ring so that it’s correctly restricting his ability to come. 

“Mmm, beautiful, baby. Look at that gorgeous cock, sir.” István moves his head slightly to allow Clark to press kisses up his neck, but Clark spares a second to look at Graeme approvingly. “Okay, so, Baby Boy, time to get ready. One finger for right now, nice and slow. We’ve got all the time in the world, right? Daddy works forever.” 

“He does,” Graeme complains in-character, snapping the lube open and squeezing some out onto his fingers. He’s not overly tight - social distancing and high anxiety has meant a lot of sex, actually, as a weird consequence - but he circles just his rim anyway, humming at the feeling of the stretch. God, he loves being fucked. 

“Perfect, Baby Boy,” István murmurs, his voice breathy. Graeme refocuses on the laptop screen to see Clark slowly, casually stroking István’s cock under the silk nightgown. “Keep working yourself open for me, but no prostate, or I’ll text Daddy and tell him you’re being naughty. We’d hate to interrupt him, wouldn’t we?” 

“I won’t, sir. I’ll be good.” 

“Oh, we know you will be.” Clark’s voice is dark, sensuous. 

Graeme shivers, working himself open. It’s torture to go slowly - he wants to just shove the vibrator in right now - but the blatant approval on his sirs’ faces is more than enough incentive to slow. 

“How about, Isti, sweetheart, whenever he gets a finger, so do you?” Clark suggests, kissing István’s neck again. 

Graeme watches István shudder with pleasure, watches Clark’s hand stop stroking István’s cock and move behind. Sees István tilt forward a little and lift one of those gorgeous thighs to give Clark access, bending at the knee. István reaches out a hand to the bedspread to steady himself, and the silk nightgown becomes completely useless, fluttering around his waist so Graeme can see his flushed, leaking cock. 

“Oh, fuck, Baby Boy, he feels so good,” István says with a groan, moving his hips a little. 

It all makes Graeme whine as he has to keep his motions deliberate to stay away from his prostate. He’ll never get tired of watching Clark fuck István. Watching their care, and love. It makes his chest burn with happiness and desire. 

“Another finger.” It’s unclear whether István’s command is for Graeme or Clark or both, but Graeme takes it as his anyway - and so must Clark, because István lets out a shaky breath at almost the same time as Graeme. 

With two inside, it’s harder still to avoid his prostate. A few minutes later, at three, nearly impossible. “Sir, _ sir-” _Graeme cries urgently, pleading for more. 

_ Sir _ himself is looking equally wrecked, his eyes half-lidded as Clark fucks him with three fingers. István’s gripping the sheets, mouth open, panting. “Put it in, Baby Boy. Put the vibrator in.” 

Graeme wastes no time in slicking it up and sliding it in himself, both Clark and István groaning in reaction. It’s a slim model, tucking neatly against his prostate. There’s a second's pause as István reaches for his phone, and then it buzzes to life inside him and Graeme _ howls. _

István’s look is all wicked, even as Clark repositions himself to slide his cock into István from behind. His hand grips István’s hip, and just like the slow buzzing torture on Graeme’s prostate, he starts to fuck István slowly. A sharp, sinuous snap of his hips makes István moan. The way the vibrator is pulsing on his prostate, Graeme feels a bit like Clark’s fucking him instead. 

As István turns the vibrator higher, and Clark fucks him faster, Graeme loses all sense of how loud he’s being. It’s all so good, his eyes meeting István’s, one hand gripping into the bed and the other holding the vibrator against his prostate. His cock is straining against the cock ring, just waiting for the order to be released and explode. 

“Thought I told you I needed peace and quiet to work, Baby Boy,” Alan says, voice low and sounding stern, from the bedroom doorway. It’s planned, of course, but Graeme still stiffens, his cock hurting with the need to come at the thought of being caught like this. “You’re being so loud, I couldn’t stay away and let you have all the fun.” 

“I’m-” he gasps as István turns the vibe higher, “I’m s-s-sorry, Daddy.”

Alan crosses to the bed, kneeling beside Graeme and sparing a quick look at the laptop. “Sorry, guys, I’m going to have to discipline Baby Boy. He knows the rules.” 

Graeme gets one last look at István and Clark - Clark’s hips snapping fast, István’s face and cock flushed - before he’s being hauled across Daddy’s lap, ass up. He whines, the vibrator still buzzing on his prostate, his sensitive cock sliding against the fabric of Daddy’s pajama pants. 

“Clark, how many do you think I should give him?” 

Graeme hears Clark’s voice, breathless and panting. “I think five is a good start.” 

He shivers, flinching when Daddy’s hand caresses over his ass. “I agree.” 

The slap comes, sharp against Graeme’s senses, cutting through some of the haze of desperation the vibrator has been giving him. His pain and pleasure clarify, become clearer, crystallize into the higher plane of his subspace. When the next slap comes, it’s not a surprise, and he’s ready for it, waiting for it, can’t wait for it again and again and again-

Daddy’s fingers work into his hair and turn his head to face toward the laptop screen. He’s vaguely aware that he’s crying, tears streaking his cheeks from over-stimulation and pleasure and happiness. On the screen, Clark has István face down on the bed, hand on his back holding him down as he fucks him with everything he has. István’s face is pointed towards the camera, but he’s completely lost in his own world, eyes squeezed shut. 

Daddy reaches five, and Graeme arches his back, presenting his ass for _ more. _ He needs more, he needs to feel it, he wants it all. Daddy growls, pausing for a moment to fuck the vibrator over Graeme’s prostate with the same rhythm Clark is using. 

And that’s when Graeme starts begging. To come, to hurt more, for more vibration - anything and everything, he babbles over and over again as Daddy alternates spanks with fucking. 

It’s only when Graeme has dissolved into a desperate string of _ “Please, please, please-,” _ hiccuping through them, practically sobbing, it’s only when István’s been given permission to come and does, that Clark nods to Daddy. Graeme watches blurrily as Clark keeps fucking István for a few more strokes before stiffening with a shout. At the same time, Daddy’s hand snakes between his legs to deftly remove his cock ring. 

The instant relief makes his cock jerk almost automatically, the vibrator on his prostate making his orgasm explode behind his eyes in a display of colorful fireworks. Graeme groans, rolling away from the laptop and curling into Daddy’s stomach, oversensitive and euphoric and floating in subspace. 

“I had a voice chat with Krista earlier today, and she’s hunkered down and fine. Sent a grocery delivery to my parents, too.” 

Graeme comes back to the sound of Alan’s conversational voice. He’s wrapped in Alan’s arms, somehow back in his clean pajamas. He blinks, registering the laptop in front of them and realizing he and Alan are in the same position István and Clark started in, spooning as they chat. He reaches out for the water bottle on the side table, smiling when István grins at him with tired, sub-to-sub understanding. 

“Hey, _csillagom,_ welcome back.” István and Clark are sitting up now, leaning against their headboard; István has Clark between his legs, arms wrapped around him, head resting on Clark’s shoulder. They’re both dressed, too, looking tired and satisfied and fucked-out.

Alan’s arms squeeze him in a quick hug before he’s offering up a slice of apple and peanut butter. “Can I get you anything else, baby?” 

“No,” Graeme answers with a happy sigh, snuggling back into his first favorite person and smiling at his second and third favorites. “This is perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for comments and kudos. I hope that you and yours are healthy and safe and happy. Or if they're not, that they recover quickly. I love y'all, and I want you guys to love each other out there, too. 
> 
> COVID-19 --possibly stressful-- pandemic head canons:  
\--As a nurse, Istvan was and is on the front lines, which scares everyone around him, obviously. He wouldn't give it up, though, not that any of the others would ask them to. The clinic at the Tommy Center remains open for medical emergencies.  
\-- the Tommy Center is also coordinating community resources, including pick-up breakfasts and lunches for kids and care packages for the elderly in the surrounding neighborhood. Graeme has been leaving the house to help coordinate the food for that.  
\-- Alan, and everyone in his office, are obviously working from home.  
\-- Early in the pandemic, Alan and Graeme got into a large stress-induced fight because Alan was talking about hope and how we're all pulling together to get through this as a way to calm Graeme's anxiety and Graeme felt that was a privileged stance to take. He talked to Alan a lot about what it had been like living pay check to pay check, the uncertainty of that already compounded with adding this uncertainty on top of it. As a result of this argument/conversation, Alan's dedicating time and resources to where he and Graeme think they'll be helpful.  
\--Literally fluffier: because of his time with Alan, Graeme has built up quite a yarn stash, and when he's not working for Reene (as a delivery business, she can continue working) or at the Tommy Center, he's happy in isolation knitting away and listening to podcasts. He recommends My Dad Wrote a Porno for maximum awful raunchy hilariousness.  
\--Clark's restaurant is struggling, because when people think take out, they don't tend to think about the five-star hard-to-get-a-reservation place. He's working through it but it's hard and stressful, obviously.  
\--And yes, Alan and Graeme did elope. They plan on having a large, happy, beautiful, wonderful reception whenever it becomes safe to do so, but after their argument and resolution, they realized they don't want to spend another minute not legally bound to each other.  
\--I made this list sound like I'm never writing about these guys again or something, which I promise is not the case. This universe is not closed. :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't, please check out the other works in this series, especially if you like kink! :)
> 
> Comments and kudos, especially on original works like this, are always appreciated <3 <3


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